


kairos

by miyukeytomyheart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, I think there is, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, M/M, Sad Ending, Sad everyone, You've been warned, bokuto-centric, but overall super sad, i hope there's a little fluff, i think this is enough now, kuroken getting married, manga spoilers!, sad akaashi, sad bokuto, wedding!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyukeytomyheart/pseuds/miyukeytomyheart
Summary: (n) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movementor when timing was more than just cruel to them and bokuto realises too late that akaashi was already gone.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	kairos

**Author's Note:**

> my first bokuaka fic and honestly, this _pained_ me to write but it was so enjoyable being able to explore a different side of bokuto like this. i feel like his desire to conform and to be one of the dudes can (or may) outweigh his desire to be with akaashi. it may also be due to fear of ostracisation but its a similar vein. 
> 
> i would also like to thank my beta-readers, @/kanjiakaashi and @/soulkatsuki on twitter, for going through this work for me and providing me with feedback. it really did make my work better! 
> 
> now, lets just hop in for this rollercoaster ride.

Bokuto is not homophobic, not _at all._ After all, he _was_ best friends with a gay person (Kuroo) and so there is just no way. He’s just... not gay, that’s all. It’s cool if other people liked guys; he had no problem with that. He just wasn’t one of them. And so when Akaashi confessed to him, in the middle of Fukurodani’s 3rd volleyball court that sticky summer night, he didn’t know how to react. They were sweaty and exhausted from the extra 1-on-1 practice Bokuto _insisted_ on having and Bokuto caught Akaashi’s usual impassive mask slipping slightly.

“Akaashi, stop kidding around,” Bokuto laughed nervously. He scratched the back of his neck, eager to have something to preoccupy his tingling fingers. “You know I’m not.. you know, gay.” His last word had been all but a whisper but he knew Akaashi had heard him.

Akaashi’s level gaze flickered to something Bokuto thought looked like contempt and recognition and even a little... disgust? But before he could examine it any further, it was gone.

“Of course Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s tone was light but Bokuto picked up on the slight chill and unmistakable scoff in the setter’s usually mild-mannered tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you could, please, just forget this ever happened.”

Bokuto sighed in relief, glad that Akaashi understood and that he had not lost his best friend. In all honesty, he had guessed that the second-year setter harboured certain feelings for him. Ever since their first training camp, when Akaashi let Bokuto have the last Pocari Sweat (because ‘ _it’s your favourite Bokuto-san_ ’), Bokuto knew that the setter felt _that_ way about him. But Bokuto just didn’t feel the same way. Sure he enjoyed Akaashi’s company and he found himself the most comfortable when around the raven-haired setter. Bokuto would even go so far as to admit the flutter of butterflies that he got in his stomach whenever Akaashi cracked one of his rare smiles; so maybe some affection but Bokuto definitely did not _like like_ Akaashi. He liked girls, and Akaashi’s _not_ a girl (no matter how pretty he was).

Desperate to restore the comfortable atmosphere, Bokuto grinned at Akaashi and he was glad when Akaashi smiled back. Summer had just begun and it was Bokuto’s second summer training camp with Akaashi. He still remembered how nervous the setter had been around him, fumbling over easy sets and speaking to him with a permanent blush. But, as the days went on, Akaashi became more comfortable, formal but still comfortable. He started interacting more with Bokuto, sending him _perfect_ sets and giving him more compliments afterwards. They also started talking more _outside_ volleyball, venturing into topics like their favourite movie genre and favourite cousin. Bokuto discovered that Akaashi _really_ liked vintage horror movies and he had an abnormal love for spicy food. So, in an attempt to win the setter over, Bokuto had organised a custom movie marathon and brought Akaashi to his favourite Szechuan restaurant. He had been delighted by Akaashi’s marble-round eyes and flushed cheeks and the setter’s breathless ‘ _thank you Bokuto-san_ ’ had left Bokuto a little dizzy (probably from the adrenaline and spicy cuisine). But those things didn’t _mean_ anything because that was just how best friends were, how _partners_ were. It was all _normal_.

“Good,” Bokuto grinned. “Let’s get back to practice.” Pivoting around, he started moving towards the back of the court, ready to start his run-up.

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto froze. There was a slight edge in Akaashi’s voice which made Bokuto’s blood run cold. Oh shit, was this it? Was this the moment Akaashi told him that they couldn’t be friends anymore? He knew that Akaashi letting him off scot-free was too good to be true. Just of the thought of losing Akaashi made Bokuto’s heart spasm and he fought to keep his usual smile plastered on his face.

“It’s 10 pm. I think it’s time we wrapped up, you should go home and get some rest.”

Bokuto blinked, his owlish eyes dusted with confusion. He noticed that Akaashi had said ‘you’ and not ‘we’ and that made him swoon a little, knowing that Akaashi cared about _him_ in particular. Chalk it up to his ego but he liked it when Akaashi doted on him.

“Oh of course!” The laugh that rang across the empty court was much louder than Bokuto had intended and he cringed internally. Despite his airhead demeanour, Bokuto was a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for and he knew that he was acting just a little too energetic, too _animated_ , for it to be passed off as his normal hyper behaviour.

Wordlessly, Akaashi picked up the stray volleyballs near his feet and dumped them in the trolley beside him. Bokuto helped with clean-up, taking down the net and packing away the poles. Before long the gymnasium was spotless and Bokuto felt exhaustion settle into his bones. It _was_ late and he was glad that Akaashi had ended the training session before anyone got hurt.

“Let’s go Bokuto-san.” Akaashi waited by the gymnasium door, illuminated by the full-moon behind him. A small smile played on his lips as the soft summer breezed rustled his sweat-stained hair. Bokuto knew at that moment that he would never see anything more beautiful. He forced himself to breathe and to shrug on his bright red backpack (a gift from Kuroo). He plastered on his usual smile before bounding over to Akaashi. Akaashi let Bokuto pass before locking up the gymnasium and pocketing the key. Technically, Bokuto was the one in charge of securing the gymnasium; as Captain, it was his duty. But, as Akaashi quickly discovered, Bokuto was forgetful and clumsy and he often lost important things. And so, Akaashi took it upon himself to keep the key and Bokuto didn’t mind. Akaashi was better at it anyway.

The walk home was uneventful. Bokuto talked and Akaashi listened. They separated at Shibuya station, with Akaashi boarding the Inokashira Line bound for Machida Station. Bokuto waved as he saw Akaashi onto the grey-pink cabin, smiling as the door closed, separating them. Akaashi remained as impassive as ever, only raising his hand to wave goodbye before shoving Airpods into his ears, probably listening to an English _podcast_. Akaashi had told Bokuto about his difficulties with the language, disappointed with his mediocre results from last semester (well, Akaashi got a 70% and in Bokuto’s opinion, that was _hardly_ mediocre but well, who was he to discourage him). For Bokuto, he really could care less about results and tests and studying- he was going to go pro, he was sure of it, and so there was no use pouring his time into studying when he could be out practising volleyball.

Bouncing on his feet, he turned around, walking towards the platform heading towards Kokubunji. He hummed as he walked, thinking about what he should eat for dinner and if he had any last-minute homework he had to rush before tomorrow morning. As his mind drifted, Bokuto found himself thinking back to how Akaashi had looked on the gymnasium steps, all gentle eyes and genuine smile and the dusting of pink that lingered around his permanently chapped lips. Bokuto thinks, admits to himself, how _pretty_ Akaashi is.

The shrill whistling of the train and the gush of warm air that follows pulled Bokuto from his thoughts as he clambers onto the nearly empty train. It was 9 pm, way past rush hour and the train hummed with a knowing silence that Bokuto had always hated. Exhausted, he flopped loudly onto an empty seat, earning a disapproving glare from the old lady across him. He muttered an apology before pulling out his own set of Airpods (a gift from Akaashi after he complained about how _bored_ he always got on trains- ‘here Bokuto-san, so you can listen to music or something on the way home.’). He scrolled through the collaborative playlist he and Akaashi had made last autumn after one of Bokuto’s horrendous training sessions. He had gotten into a funk that even Akaashi couldn’t pull him out of. The playlist had been Akaashi’s idea, a ploy to get Bokuto up and running again and out of his emotional ravine.

Bokuto stifled a smile, trust Akaashi to always know how to make him feel better. The first song that came on was _Riptide_ by Vance Joy and Bokuto remembered insisting on the song for their playlist. “ _But it’s a hit, a popular hit! How can you not like it?_ ” Bokuto had whined. Akaashi had looked unimpressed and sighed before agreeing to include it. The familiar melody filled Bokuto with sudden nostalgia and he was reminded of how little time he had left with Akaashi.

This was precisely why he hated train rides. It was always too silent and it forced him to be with his thoughts, something he was starting to become more and more annoyed with. He never liked thinking- it hurt his head and he always preferred living in the moment- but ever since his appointment as captain and the mounting pressure to _decide_ what he wanted to do after graduation, he started hating it even more.

Bokuto clicked to the next song and a slow melody filled his ears. It was a song Akaashi had chosen. ‘I can't fall in love without you’ or something like that. Bokuto remembered groaning, the slow music disrupting his vibe but he had allowed it. Akaashi had had an odd look in his eyes and Bokuto didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t want the song in their playlist.

The rest of the ride passed in a blur with Bokuto tuning out his own thoughts and staring at the flashes of grey that zipped through his windows. By the time he reached home, it was a little past 10 and his eyes landed on the foil-covered plate sitting on the dinner table. His stomach grumbled and Bokuto realised just how _hungry_ he was. Tearing off his bag, Bokuto rushed upstairs to shower. He emerged 10 minutes later, sopping wet and clean.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand before bounding downwards to the kitchen table. The foil glistened under the white light and Bokuto salivated at the mere thought of the food underneath it. It turned out to be leftover yakiniku and Bokuto inhaled the entire plate, barely taking the time to chew. His mom came down a few minutes later, chastising him for coming home so late and eating ‘like you haven’t eaten in years!’ But Bokuto knew that she didn’t mean of it, the affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips told him just as much.

45 minutes later, with a full stomach and a content buzz, Bokuto crawled into bed. He checked his phone for the first time that night, squinting at the bright screen. There were a few texts, some from Kuroo (complaining about how Kenma barely paid attention to him these days since he started playing a new game that Bokuto had not heard of) and some from his classmates, asking about things and whatnot. Amidst all that, tucked at the bottom of the screen, was a text from Akaashi.

> _sleep well Bokuto-san. please don’t forget to eat dinner and shower._

Bokuto grinned, having already clicked ‘reply’ on Akaashi’s text. Just as he was about to reassure Akaashi that he _had_ showered and eaten, a grey bubble popped up and ellipses followed. Bokuto stopped, waiting to see what else Akaashi wanted to say.

> _and thank you, for you know, not making it weird today. i really appreciate it._

Bokuto’s breath hitched in his throat and an unattractive hiccup bubbled up his throat. His fingers stilled as he chewed on his bottom lip. He replied a few minutes later, typing quickly, before he had a chance to change his mind.

> _OF COURSE AKAASHI! we’re best friends, i’ll always be there for you!!!!! nothing could ever make us weird! goodnight akaashi! see you tomorrow :)))_

He clicked send before chucking his phone off the bed, sending it careening to the other side of the room. Burrowing underneath the sheets, Bokuto forced himself to calm down, counting his breaths as he did so. It didn’t take long before sleep crept up on him and he found himself succumbing to its heavy pull. The last thought Bokuto had before he drifted off was of Akaashi and how much the second-year meant to him. Despite having only met him last year, Bokuto could not imagine not having him in his life. It was crazy what time could do and Bokuto vowed to never let it be weird and to always stand with Akaashi, no matter what. Warmth bloomed in Bokuto’s chest as he thought about forever with Akaashi and he fell into a deep slumber, still thinking of Akaashi and his pretty, pretty smile.

* * *

They lost in the finals and Bokuto felt himself fracture. His heart splintered and all he could think of was how it was over, high school volleyball was over.

He glanced around at his teammates, dazed from how quick it had ended. He saw Konoha and Sakurai holding each other, faces buried in the other’s neck as audible sobs racked the two third-years. Tatsuki, their other wing spiker, stood not far from them, looking down at his hand in clear disbelief. He had been the one entrusted with the last spike and it had been _perfect_ \- sharp and fast and everything a spike should be. It was just unlucky that it had been blocked by the opposing middle blocker. Bokuto’s eyes flitted across the tear-streaked Fukurodani team before landing on Akaashi.

The second-year had tears in his eyes and his mouth was contorted into a weird shape. It reminded Bokuto of the time he injured his ankle and Akaashi’s panicked expression the moment he heard Bokuto yelp. It turned out to be only a mild sprain and the matter blew over quickly. But Bokuto never forgot the odd grimace that adorned Akaashi’s usually blank expression and the odd edge to his voice when he spoke to the doctors for Bokuto (Bokuto wasn’t a fan of doctors).

Everything moved in slow motion as he walked towards Akaashi, desperate to cheer up his teammate. He walked quickly and with purpose, reaching Akaashi in three short strides. He came close, close enough to smell the salty smell of sweat mixed with faint traces of Akaashi’s mint deodorant.

“Akaashi,” he started. But before he could continue, Akaashi spoke.

“I’m sorry Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto felt like he had stepped into one of his cold 5 am showers, one of his desperate attempts at washing away the dredges of sleep for morning practice.

“I couldn’t fulfil your dream of winning Nationals. I’m sorry Bokuto-san, I hope you’ll forgive me.” Akaashi thrust himself into a deep 90-degree bow and Bokuto bristled at how _silly_ Akaashi was acting. It was weird how angry he felt and to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure _why_ he was so angry. Bokuto scowled, jerking Akaashi up from the awkward position. Akaashi’s eyes were red and tears glistened like the shiny _ikura_ beads that sat atop the sushi his mom (and later Akaashi) bought him after every game. It was his favourite and Akaashi’s tears suddenly reminded him of how there would be no more post-game sushi after today. He felt like crying and it was not because they had just lost at nationals.

“Don’t you dare apologise Akaashi! It’s not your fault!” Bokuto replied firmly, fiercely. The other male sniffled under him and Bokuto felt an urge to wrap him up in his arms and protect him from all the hurt and pain in the world. “I’m fine Akaashi, really. I mean, look around. I got to play on the biggest stage with the best people and with the best setter, the best _partner_ that I could have ever asked for. What could winning nationals, a stupid trophy, mean when I have these memories with me?”

Akaashi blinked, looking a lot like a doe caught in the headlights and Bokuto couldn’t stop the thought that flitted through his mind.

 _Pretty. So pretty_.

A small, wobbly grin found its way onto Akaashi’s face and Bokuto felt himself calm a little. “I thought I would be the one consoling you Bokuto-san. Not the other way around.”

Bokuto grinned, his smile blinding Akaashi slightly. “Honestly, me too!”

And the sound that bubbled up Akaashi’s chest was so sweet that Bokuto forgot the sting of defeat and for once, volleyball didn’t seem all that important. 

The team attended the closing ceremony, a sniffling bubbling mess, but present nonetheless. Bokuto didn’t shed a tear as he thanked the opponent captain for a great game. The other nodded, clasping his hand a little too hard and his eyes a little too happy, before bounding off to join his team for celebrations.

They went for yakiniku afterwards, at the insistence of the team. Dinner was a quiet affair, with the occasional joke and rare rounds of laughter. The silence unnerved Bokuto and it made him feel sad. But he knew that everything was going to be okay because it was Fukurodani and they always turned out fine in the end. After dinner, the team parted ways. The first and second years congregated in front of the small restaurant and bowed to the (now) retired third years, shouting their thanks and expressing their gratitude in the loudest way possible. They attracted a few stares and tuts of disapproval but they didn’t care; this was their last chance, their last chance to be a team and to say a proper goodbye.

Bokuto and Akaashi walked towards Shibuya station, a familiar path now, and Akaashi didn’t protest when Bokuto boarded the Inokashira train with him. He let Akaashi have the empty seat as he stood over the sad, _so sad_ , setter. The train ride was quick and before Bokuto knew it, he found himself inside Akaashi’s home. It wasn’t the first time he visited, it wasn’t even the tenth time, but the fact that this was going to be the last time made everything feel different. There would no longer be reason _or time_ for such visits and Bokuto felt like everything was just moving so fast.

“Let me get the futon,” Akaashi mumbled politely, gesturing towards the spare closet. Bokuto didn’t know what took hold of him, maybe some weird best-friend spider-sense, but he reached out and grabbed Akaashi’s arm. The latter uttered a soft gasp and Bokuto let go quickly, red colouring his cheeks.

“Bokuto-san?” It came out more like a question and Bokuto groaned inwardly. What was he _doing,_ ruining their last night like this?

“I-I.. I just thought that maybe we should share the bed tonight. It’s no big deal but I just thought that you could use the comfort.”

Akaashi didn’t move for a while, frozen in place, and Bokuto chided himself for making such a stupid mistake. Of course, Akaashi didn’t want to _sleep_ with him- it was weird! But, whenever Bokuto was upset, a hug or a cuddle always made him feel better and he just wanted to make Akaashi feel better goddammit. He hated the sullen look in Akaashi’s eyes and the _unintentional_ downturn to his lips (it usually was _intentional_ ).

“Okay.” And it was so soft that Bokuto almost missed it but there it was. Akaashi saying okay with that stupid pink blush and his shy, downcast eyes and once again, Bokuto thought: _pretty_.

They crawled into bed that night, both physically and emotionally exhausted. The bed was too small, way too small for two athletes, but they made it fit. Akaashi was curled into Bokuto’s chest and he wrapped his arms around the slightly smaller setter. He felt the slight tension in Akaashi’s posture and soon after, he felt wetness spread through his t-shirt. Akaashi racked underneath him and Bokuto realised, a moment too late that, oh, Akaashi was crying. Freeing his arm, Bokuto started carding his fingers Akaashi’s hair which was soft and smooth and something Bokuto had never thought about but will never stop thinking about after tonight. Akaashi sighed, a purr of content leaving his lips, and he fell promptly asleep.

Once Bokuto was sure that Akaashi was sound asleep, he untangled himself, readjusting so that he came face to face with the sleeping boy beside him. His heart was racing, probably from all the adrenaline that day, and his mouth went dry the minute he caught sight of Akaashi’s side profile. The moon danced across his porcelain skin and his nose had the most regal arch Bokuto had ever seen. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and Bokuto was _sure_ he was asleep. Bokuto continued staring, entranced and unable to look away.

So, when Akaashi spoke, it shocked Bokuto and he turned around quickly, the embarrassment of being caught spreading through his body.

“Thank you Bokuto-san, for taking care of me.”

Bokuto froze, wondering how he should respond. Bokuto was rarely at a loss for words but, as he was starting to realise, he was often left speechless by Akaashi. After what seems like an eternity, Bokuto settled on: “Of course. We’re best friends. I’m always going to have your back.” It was quiet, a stark contrast to how Bokuto usually was.

He felt Akaashi shift and he might as well have seen the wide smile that spread across Akaashi’s cheeks. Both boys fell asleep soon after.

(Akaashi woke up the next day and Bokuto was gone. But, when he went to get a glass of juice from the fridge, he saw an unfamiliar Tupperware shoved haphazardly to the side. There was a note taped to the top- _Akaashi_ it said- and it looked suspiciously like Bokuto’s handwriting. He opened the cover and the smell of mustard wafted up his nostrils. _Nanohana with Karashi dressing, his favourite_.)

* * *

Graduation came too soon. Before Bokuto realised, it was already spring and cherry blossoms lined the perimeter of Fukurodani’s field, the chosen location for the third-years’ graduation. Tears and laughter and stories told in wistful, nostalgic tones filled the atmosphere.

Bokuto looked up. The sky was clear, a good omen for this future. He had been recruited into the MSBY Black Jackal’s Development Team and he was scheduled to head to his first training camp the week after graduation. It was surreal how his dream was quickly turning into a reality. He felt a presence from behind him and he knew, before even turning around, that it was Akaashi.

He had his school uniform on, tie straight, shoes polished, jacket absent of a single crinkle. His raven-hair fluttered in the light breeze and Bokuto was transported to that night when Akaashi had confessed. His hair, sweaty and damp against his forehead, had fluttered with a similar grace and Bokuto remembered how ethereal Akaashi had looked. The Akaashi before his eyes looked different, pretty but different. His eyes, green and shining with pride _,_ were fixed on Bokuto and a soft smile tickled Akaashi’s baby pink lips. In his hand was a single volleyball and Bokuto noticed messy crawls was covering every inch it.

Akaashi, as perceptive as ever, noted Bokuto’s wondering gaze. Without hesitation, he thrust the ball towards Bokuto and smiled.

“It’s from the team.”

Every inch of the yellow-blue ball was covered with signatures and messages and Bokuto felt his eyes start to water.

> _good luck bokuto-san! we’ll be cheering for you!_
> 
> _i’ll be sure to watch all your games bokuto-senpai- go make fukurodani proud!_
> 
> _thank you for your guidance senpai, i appreciate it. best of luck for your future._

All the well wishes and thank yous and unspoken fondness made Bokuto’s heart ache and he felt his chest constrict like all the oxygen was sucked out of him and he was left breathless. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, with him being so emotional on the court and all. But it also felt different, more painful, and he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the sentimentality of it all, knowing that today would be the last day he was a Fukurodani student, dressed in the familiar yellow-grey blazer which had become a little small for Bokuto. Or perhaps it was the scenery, bright and sunny and filled with varying shades of pink and white. Or perhaps it was because he knew that this was _their_ goodbye and that from this moment on, Akaashi would no longer be with him, at least in the same way that he had been for the past two years. Akaashi would no longer be there to pick him up when he got into one of his episodes, he wouldn’t be there to pass Bokuto his bottle (always filled with Pocari Sweat) during harsh training sessions and he wouldn’t be there when Bokuto walked to the train station, late at night, exhausted but happy from a day packed with high school and practice.

He felt wetness drip onto his hands and he blinked in surprise. He was crying.

Akaashi, on the other hand, seemed to have predicted this, his palm already clutching a piece of tissue (from where he got it from Bokuto had no idea). He handed it to Bokuto who blew his nose and wiped his eyes. It was such a familiar scene, Akaashi consoling Bokuto and it just made Bokuto cry harder because this was _really_ it. He was graduating and Akaashi wasn’t and they were going to be separated for the first time in two years.

“Come on now Bokuto-san. It really isn’t that bad. You can still come and visit and we’ll still be in touch.” Akaashi tried after a few minutes of Bokuto’s wailing. The older male blubbered his protest, getting out what Akaashi made out to be ‘ _but it’s not the same_!’.

Akaashi sighed, crossing over to where Bokuto stood, a loud mess of tears and cries and _memories_ , before gingerly wrapping himself around the other. Bokuto stopped crying, almost at once, and he stiffened in response. Akaashi’s confession, although seemingly light years ago, swam to the forefront of his mind and he panicked at the thought of having to shoot his best friend down for a second time.

As if knowing what Bokuto was thinking (like he always did), Akaashi chuckled. “I’m not going to confess Bokuto-san, I mean confess _again_. You can relax. I’m just giving my _friend_ here a hug. He’s graduating today you know, and he doesn’t do too well with change.”

The wind rustled through the trees, causing loose sakura petal to cascade down on them. Some of them settled in Akaashi’s dark hair, making a sort of awkward flower crown which Bokuto found kind of endearing. He brushed them away, earning a soft preen from the male below.

They stayed like that for a while, Akaashi’s slender arms wrapped around Bokuto’s larger frame. It would have made for a comical scene but neither of them were laughing. Minutes passed and Bokuto memorised the feeling of Akaashi pressed up against him. He memorised the smell of Akaashi’s shampoo- _green tea_ \- and the way Akaashi’s breath felt against his neck. He didn’t know why but this felt like a permanent goodbye and it was enough to reignite the tears and painful ache in his chest.

Akaashi didn’t sigh this time, didn’t interrupt. He let Bokuto cry on his shoulder and Bokuto soaked up the final few moments of being here with his best friend.

They heard a distant bell chime as if signalling that their time was up. Akaashi, somewhat begrudgingly, released Bokuto and immediately Bokuto missed the warmth pressed against his front. Akaashi’s face remained blank, neutral, but Bokuto knew better. He saw the sadness in Akaashi’s eyes and knew that this was just as painful for Akaashi as it was for him.

Without warning, Akaashi bowed, a straight 90-degree bow which reminded Bokuto of the time Akaashi apologised to him at Nationals. But this time, instead of intense anger, Bokuto felt a wave of affection.

“Please keep in contact Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto smiled, the small one reserved only for Akaashi and moments with him. “You bet! I’ll still be spamming your phone all the way through third year and beyond.”

Akaashi laughed, sounding like the wind chimes Bokuto’s mom used to hang on their porch on windy days. “I’d like that Bokuto-san. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

* * *

They don’t become strangers, but they don’t stay friends either.

Bokuto got busy with training, desperately fighting for a spot on the starting roaster his first year on the team. Akaashi continued on with high school, was selected as Captain and led Fukurodani to their second consecutive appearance at the Haruko Finals. They still met up once in a while, getting yakiniku or the occasional coffee. It was like old times and at the end of each meeting, they always promised to meet more often. Empty promises they were.

The next year, Bokuto became a regular and there were even _more_ training sessions to attend. He also injured his shoulder so he had weekly rehabilitation sessions as well. Akaashi on the other hand was accepted to the Tokyo Metropolitan University for Japanese Literature. With settling in at university and learning to navigate friendships that extended beyond playing on the same volleyball team, Akaashi didn’t have much time to catch up with Bokuto. Of course, he still watched all of Bokuto’s games, smiling softly whenever he made a good spike. Bokuto was still Bokuto and he still got into his emotional episodes once in a while. It was both amusing and exasperating to see Miya Atsumu, the Black Jackals starting setter, try to wrangle him out of it. But Bokuto was getting better at handling his moods and by the end of Akaashi’s first year at university, Bokuto hardly got into his depressing moods anymore.

The third year was different. By then, Bokuto had found his place on the team and he had more room to breathe. He was able to ask for time off and reschedule things without fear of being kicked off the team. Akaashi also learnt to live alone and he thrived at university, making friends from a range of departments and really coming out of his shy shell. He became more confident, taking less time to warm up to people and more people started noticing how funny Akaashi truly was. Of course, Bokuto didn’t know about any of this. In fact, he hadn’t spoken to Akaashi since last spring when he asked if the setter wanted to come to watch one of his games. Akaashi had texted back that night, apologising for not being to make it. He had told Bokuto about having some exams that week and Bokuto had waved him off, reassuring him that it was okay and that they should catch up soon. Akaashi had agreed, promising to shoot Bokuto a text after his exams ended but neither of them had followed up on that plan.

It was now their fourth year and Bokuto had just gotten home from another intense training session. It was a particularly warm night and Bokuto was sweaty from both practice and the walk home. His hands were also sticky from fighting over an orange popsicle with Tsumu after practice. He flopped on the couch, throwing his arms over his eyes and hoping to get a few minutes of sleep before he had to wash up and prepare dinner. His Fukurodani coach had always nagged him to eat properly and whilst he had waved it off in the past, he realised that he no longer had the luxury of not fuelling his body properly. Now, he made sure to eat three meals a day, preferably home-cooked so he could accurately record his caloric intake.

A shrill ring rang through the room and Bokuto groaned. It was his 5-minute alarm, alerting him that nap time was over. Grumbling, he dragged his limp body to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. The soft whir from his newly-bought refrigerator grounded Bokuto slightly and the chill breeze helped wake him up a little bit. He rubbed his eyes and scanned the contents inside the fridge. There was some leftover rice, and some meat but there was no vegetable in sight. Bokuto closed his eyes in exasperation and he felt his bones grow heavier at the thought of having to go purchase groceries at this hour.

He contemplated _not_ eating vegetables for tonight, just to treat himself for all the hard work he had been doing. But, just as he was about to take out the meat and rice, he felt a pang of guilt and what sounded like responsibility chastising him for being lazy.

“ _Gah!_ I hate being an adult,” Bokuto moaned to himself before grabbing his jacket, keys and wallet and slipping out the front door. The closest convenience store wasn’t too far away- about a 5-minute walk if Bokuto hurried- and the soft breeze made walking through the humid Tokyo evening a little more bearable.

A familiar chime greeted Bokuto as he walked through the doors of the nearby 7/11. The girl behind the counter gave him a bashful smile and Bokuto beamed at her, knowing that she had some sort of fascination with him but was too shy to approach him. Bokuto picked up a basket and started walking through the first aisle. Despite only having come for vegetables, Bokuto had a bad habit of combing through each aisle whenever he went shopping. It was a bad habit and it made his grocery trips a lot longer than necessary but he was adamant that it was more efficient and reduced the risk of him forgetting anything from the store.

He was in the snacks aisle, debating whether to buy the blue-packaged _Calbee_ chips or the huge bar of _Meiji_ chocolate when he heard a familiar laugh come from the aisle behind him. His head jerked upwards and his heartbeat picked up, kind of like how it was at the end of a close game. His throat went dry as he dared a peek over the tall shelves.

He was greeted with a familiar head of messy black hair and shining green eyes and lips pulled up into a small amused smile which Bokuto didn’t realise he had missed until that moment.

It was Akaashi.

He had gotten taller, a little broader, and not as boyish as he used to look. But still pretty, still so _god damn pretty_ , and Bokuto felt his chest constrict and throat dry up as he panicked. Why he panicked, he had no idea. It was just Akaashi.. his best friend… or, used to be best friend? He didn’t know where they stood anymore.

Akaashi, as aware as ever, glanced upwards and caught sight of Bokuto peeking. His eyes grew wide and a glint which Bokuto recognised as Akaashi’s signal for _happy_ , bloomed in the other’s eyes. The moment seemed to last forever and Bokuto felt like he was falling.

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s voice was level, calm, but Bokuto noticed the slightly higher pitch and the way Akaashi’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It’s been a while.”

And just like that, time resumed and Bokuto found himself clinging onto the top of a shelf full of snacks. Embarrassed, Bokuto leapt off, heading towards the end of the aisle to greet Akaashi. Akaashi, seeming to have the same idea, met him at the junction of both their aisles, hands grasping a packet of frozen tofu. It was weird because for a moment, they seemed awkward and Bokuto frowned at that thought. How could they be awkward? They were Bokuto and Akaashi and he was never awkward around his former setter, not when they first met, not when they parted and not when they met up again those few times over coffee.

“Akaashi, what do you think..” a gruff voice came from behind him. A tall-ish (well tall for Japanese standards) man appeared behind Akaashi, holding a bottle of Porcari in one hand and a similar-sized bottle of Gatorade in the other. He had spiky brown hair and looked well-built- maybe a fellow athlete? But before Bokuto had time to process what was happening, Akaashi was pulling the man towards him and smiling. It was the same sort of smile Akaashi used to give him and Bokuto felt a twist in his gut.

“Um.. Bokuto-san, this is Iwaizumi. He’s my roommate. He’s from Miyagi and he used to play volleyball. He told me about how he went head to head with Hinata and Kageyama during his third year and how Karasuno had snatched their final chance at nationals.’ It was odd for Akaashi to be talking so much, especially about someone that was presumably just his roommate.

“Yeah. It was rough and Oikawa, I guess you don’t know him, but my best friend was pretty torn up when we lost against them. Heard that they used to play against you and you helped train Hinata. Guess that wasn’t in our favour, having a top-5 national ace train our rival.” Iwaizumi’s lips were moving and Bokuto briefly registered that they were talking about Karasuno and volleyball but beyond that, Bokuto had no idea was what happening. His brain was going into meltdown as he watched Akaashi watch Iwaizumi with that stupid, slight smile that Bokuto found enchanting.

“Um, yeah. Hinata. He’s not in Japan anymore right?” Bokuto managed to reply after a few moments of silence. Iwaizumi raised one eyebrow, looking both concerned and confused. He threw Akaashi a look and Akaashi gave one right back and for the first time, Bokuto felt like he was out of sync with Akaashi. It used to be _him_ giving Akaashi looks and Akaashi wordlessly understanding what he wanted to say.

Iwaizumi laughed awkwardly, palming the back of his neck, a nervous habit Bokuto recognised in himself. “Yeah.. I heard he went to Brazil and oh! Oikawa sent some pictures of them together, guess they met up or something. He seems to be doing good though so I’m happy for him.”

Another minute passed as Bokuto continued staring at the pair in front of him, disbelief coursing through his entire body. Akaashi frowned and he reached out to touch Bokuto. For some unknown reason, Bokuto flinched and Akaashi drew his hand back, confusion and hurt written on his face.

“Right well… we’ll be going now but it was good to see you Bokuto-san. Please do text me when you’re free and maybe we can get coffee sometime?” Akaashi offered, shattering Bokuto from his trance.

“Oh yeah! Of course, Akaashi and I’m sorry Iwaizumi-kun, it was great to meet you! Have a good night.” Bokuto’s chirpy tone felt flat on his ears and there was a noticeable amount of tension in his voice. Akaashi, looking slightly concerned still, nodded before giving him a slight wave and heading off. Iwaizumi followed behind, giving Bokuto one last hesitant look before running up to Akaashi.

Bokuto stood there, under the white fluorescent light with the cool breeze of the frozen section blowing behind him, stunned. People shoved past him, some annoyed and some slightly more compassionate. It wasn’t until when an old lady approached him, asking with a tone filled with concern, if Bokuto was alright that he managed to force a smile and move towards the checkout counter.

Dinner that night was a sad affair. His fried rice and stir-fried vegetables tasted bland and swallowing each bite was a unique struggle. He crawled into bed that night, wide awake despite the gruelling training session and heavy-boned exhaustion that had threatened to drown him just mere hours ago. Sleep didn’t come easy that night and Bokuto spent the better part of it tossing and turning and thinking about _who Iwaizumi was and why was he so close to Akaashi._

He thought about how Akaashi’s small smile and the soft way he looked at Iwaizumi. It reminded him of that summer training camp when Akaashi had confessed.

He thought about how Akaashi had been able to recognise Iwaizumi’s _looks_ and how he was able to respond in just mere seconds. It reminded him of how he and Akaashi used to match, perfectly in sync, almost like they were one person.

He thought about how Iwaizumi’s hands lingered around Akaashi’s wrist when he had caught up with the other, hesitant but also _sure_.

Bokuto felt a slight burn in his nostrils, like when he was a kid and ate a spoonful of wasabi on a dare. His eyes stung and he felt his crying for some reason. It was just Akaashi… _seeing_ Akaashi, seeing him after what three years? It should feel familiar and happy and _nostalgic_ and at worst, awkward and cringy and including bittersweet comments on how _those were the days_. So why did Bokuto feel like he had just had his heart ripped out and home torn apart?

He buried further into his blanket, refusing to let his growing realisation surface. No, it was late and he was tired. That was all it was, he was _not_ jealous of Iwaizumi-kun. He was _not_ jealous of Iwaizumi-kun. He was _not_.

* * *

Bokuto smiled graciously as soft music twinkled around him. The occasional laughter bubbled up from around him, disturbing the quiet tranquillity that enveloped the entire atmosphere. It was quiet and dainty and _so_ out of Bokuto’s comfort zone. The energetic wing spiker fidgeted with the card he was holding and a small hand placed itself reassuringly on his forearm. Bokuto felt himself calm slightly as the touch grounded him and he remembered that he was alright, he was here with someone and that _nasty_ feeling he got when he saw Akaashi three years ago would not. _could not_ , resurface.

“Ko? Are you okay?” the voice of his long-term girlfriend, Emi, floated from below. She was tiny, barely 5ft tall and _adorable_.

Bokuto flashed her his award-winning smile as he patted her hand gently. “Of course Emi-chan, I’m perfect!”

He could tell, from the slight furrow in her eyebrow and the downturn on her cherry-red lips, that she didn’t believe him. But, as usual, she dropped it. Bokuto was half-grateful and half-annoyed that she did, knowing that it was always best for him to talk about his feelings.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar head and a fresh wave of panic washed through him. It was Akaashi. He had his back turned towards him but Bokuto could recognise those strong shoulders and lean figure anywhere. Emi’s eyes followed his and her frown deepened at the look on Bokuto’s face.

“Do you know him? Should we go say hi?” Bokuto barely registered Emi’s voice as he continued staring at Akaashi, greedily drinking in all that he had missed within those three years. Akaashi hadn’t changed much really, he looked the same as he had that night Bokuto bumped him into. His hair was the same jet-black that it was in high school but it was styled in a way that made Bokuto’s breath hitch just a little bit more and his stomach churn a little harder.

Just then, Akaashi turned around and his eyes locked onto Bokuto. From across the room, Bokuto heard Akaashi’s sharp inhale, almost as if he was standing right next to him, and Bokuto stopped breathing. Time stilled as the pair continued staring at each other and Bokuto faintly recognised Emi slapping him lightly, concerned dusting her soft, make-up laden face. But Bokuto blinked and the moment ended as quickly as it started. He felt something like ice water wash over him as he struggled to regain his composure. He knew his face said too much and he fought to rearrange it before Akaashi approached him.

Just as he predicted, Akaashi was walking towards him, a gentle smile teasing the corners of his (still) chapped lips. Somehow Bokuto couldn’t stop staring at those lips; he just felt an inexplicable pull towards them.

“Hi,” he stammered unintelligently when Akaashi was stood no more than an arm’s length in front of him. 

“Hi,” Akaashi replied. His voice was soft and Bokuto felt like he was just punched in the gut, all the air being pushed out of him from just that one syllable.

“Hi, I’m Emi.” A stab of annoyance shot through Bokuto. As irrational as it sounded, Bokuto wanted to be the only one to speak to Akaashi and Emi ruined that for him.

“Hello Emi-san, my name is Akaashi and I’m one of Bokuto’s teammates from high school.” Akaashi’s level tone betrayed nothing but Bokuto caught the slight flicker of annoyance in his eyes. It made his heart swell and he became light-headed at how _happy_ he felt right now.

“Oh cool! So you play volleyball too?” Emi was being perfectly polite but Bokuto felt an intense urge to snap at her to shut up. It was strange as he usually _loved_ how talkative and friendly Emi was towards everyone- it was one of his favourite traits about her. At Emi’s inquiry, Akaashi nodded good-naturedly and continued the conversation like the gentleman he was. Bokuto remained quiet, sulking at how his time with Akaashi was being wasted on this meaningless conversation with Emi.

“Are you alright Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s steady voice grounded Bokuto and he blinked owlishly at Akaashi’s concern. He nodded, beaming at the setter, happy that even after all these years it was Akaashi who still looked out for him.

“Yeah Ko, you look a little pale.. how about we go sit down hm?” Emi was staring up at him, big eyes brimming with evident worry.

“That’s a good idea Emi-san. It was nice seeing you again Bokuto-san and it was nice meeting you Emi-san.” Akaashi’s voice was like a knife in Bokuto’s heart and he blurted out _no_ before he could think of what to say. Akaashi and Emi both look flabbergasted, staring at him with a mixture of confusion and anxiety.

“No? Ko, I think you need some water. Let’s go get you some water.” And with that, Emi was pushing him in the direction of the bar, waving her hands wildly in an effort to get the busy bartender’s attention. Bokuto glanced back and saw that Akaashi was staring at him, a pained look etched on his face and he shivered. He had never seen Akaashi that wounded and he fought against all his instincts to go back and hug the younger male. But instead, he let himself be pushed away and Akaashi drifted back into the sea of guests.

Kuroo came up to him a little while later, whilst he was drinking himself silly at the bar. He was careful not to get too drunk as he still needed to get both him and Emi home.

“Bro.. I’m sorry. You said it was fine but.. I’m sorry, I should have known better.” Kuroo’s tone told Bokuto everything he needed to know. He waved a flippant hand at Kuroo before turning around, blinding Kuroo with his signature million-watt smile.

“It’s okay dude! Really! And congratulations again, by the way, I’m glad you and Kenma figured shit out.”

Kuroo turned to look at his now-husband, squabbling with Hinata over something or another. The orange-haired boy was gesticulating wildly as Kenma looked as exasperated and bored as ever. But there was a glimmer of affection and Kuroo’s soft looks at the other made Bokuto’s heart squeeze. The older male ran a hand through his messy hair, making it fall out of the carefully styled look that Bokuto knew Kuroo had specially done for the wedding.

“Yeah.. I’m glad he’s mine y’know, like officially and whatever. Well, not officially since we can’t be _legally_ married but still. It’s enough, _this_ is enough.”

 _Yeah, I know_ , Bokuto thought bitterly but he forced himself to widen his grin. “Yeah… it’s great isn’t it? Maybe I’ll get there soon.” Kuroo arched an eyebrow, clearly questioning Bokuto’s statement. His eyes searched Bokuto’s face as resignation settled itself onto his handsome features.

“Yeah, you’ll be there soon buddy.”

Bokuto was thankful that Kuroo decided to drop the subject. It wasn’t often that the Nekoma captain let something go and he was happy that Kuroo didn’t pry any further, They sat there, the both of them, watching Hinata and Kenma have an animated conversation about games, nursing their whisky.

“It gets easier you know..”

“I really hope so.”

Later that night, once they were under their sheets and the lights were turned off, Bokuto let himself crumple a little bit. The thought had been stewing in his mind for a while now and he was aching to finally verbalise them.

“Let’s break up.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and the light snapped on moments after. Emi was yelling at him, tears streaming down her pretty, smooth face. But in that moment, amidst all that chaos, all Bokuto could think about was how no one could ever be as pretty as Akaashi and that was the moment that he knew he was fucked.

* * *

Bokuto was a coward.

He had tried breaking up with Emi but one thought of how he could be alone forever sent him right back into her arms. Anyways, it wasn’t as if he didn’t love her. Through the years, he did end up truly caring for her and his affection for her might even border on love. But he knew, deep down he knew, that his feelings for Emi could never hold a candle to his feelings for Akaashi.

Years passed and Bokuto’s success grew. He was, at one point, Japan’s ace and every time he spiked the ball, he thought about how it never felt as good as when Akaashi tossed it to him. Even with the most skilled of players, _Kageyama, Atsumu_ and even at one point _Oikawa_ , Bokuto could never replicate the feeling he had at nationals when Akaashi had tossed to him that last time.

He proposed to Emi five years later, when he was 28 and about to retire. He had gotten into sports commentary and he had sufficient savings from his sponsorship deals and his time playing on the MSBY BJ and the Japanese National Team. He had popped the question at one of Tokyo’s most romantic locations, a place he had Googled a few weeks ago, and he had gone to pick out the ring about a week before the proposal. Emi had squealed as tears of joy cascaded down her pretty face. Bokuto felt himself soften slightly at how happy she looked and he thought to himself: _I can do this. I can live a life like this_.

They spent the next few months preparing for the wedding. They bickered over colour choices, taste-tested hundreds of cakes, and Bokuto sulked every time Emi told him he couldn’t have a volleyball-themed wedding. Amidst all of this, they went on dates and watched movies and laughed at funny Youtube videos. Bokuto was _almost_ happy and he was _almost_ excited to be getting married to Emi. But truth be told, he wasn’t.

He stared at the cream coloured paper in front of him, Akaashi’s name written in neat Kanji at the top. Emi had been confused at why Bokuto was so insistent on having him at their wedding. “It’s not like we know him that well,” she had huffed. But she had relented, as she always did, and Bokuto got his way.

It was a way for Bokuto to move on and as _selfish_ as it was, Bokuto wanted Akaashi to see him get married and be able to tell himself that it was never going to happen. A secret part of him had also hoped that Akaashi would whisk him off his feet and tell him that he was making a mistake. He wanted the raven-setter to confess to him again and beg for him to run off with him into the moonlight. And so, with all such hopes and dreams, he had sent out the invitation.

It took 3 weeks before he received Akaashi’s response and there, on the clean crisp paper, was a neat ‘x’ next to the box titled ’ _Not Attending’_.

It was like a slap in the face. Akaashi was rejecting his invite, in a way rejecting _him_ and so Bokuto had balled up the piece of paper and threw it, as hard as he could, onto the wall opposite the dining table. Unsatisfied, he flipped over the table and trashed the kitchen cabinet behind it. Emi had emerged, alarmed, and found Bokuto sobbing on the floor. She had made him his favourite tea and told him that it was okay and that she would be there for whatever had happened.

He didn’t bother telling her that his comfort drink was hot chocolate. He also didn’t bother correcting her when she whispered to him that night that she knew he didn’t love her. He just rolled over and pretended to be asleep.

* * *

Bokuto retired when Emi got pregnant with their first child. They moved back to Kokubunji where Bokuto had renovated his parent’s home. It was cosy and familiar and for a moment, Bokuto could pretend that he was 17 again and playing with the love of his life. Oh yeah, he had gotten to terms with that over the years. It was scary at first, admitting that he was in love with his best friend. But, he decided that he either needed to make peace with it or have it crush him later on. (He chose the former.)

Bokuto nearly passed out when Emi goes into labour. Her chaotic energy was no help either and both of them ended up, a panting mess, at the ER. Emi gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Keiji, because if he couldn’t keep Akaashi the least he could do is have a little part of him with him.

Meanwhile, Bokuto continued with his sponsorship career, modelling and advertising for a whole host of things as a side gig. By the end of that year, their house was crowded with samples that he had been given as part of his contract and Emi had had a fit about living in such a cluttered space. So they moved, three streets over, to a bigger five-bedroom, three-bathroom townhouse. They had another baby the next year, a girl, and they named her Aiko.

Things were fine for a while and Bokuto almost forgot about how _unhappy_ he was. He played volleyball with Keiji, who had fallen in love with the sport the first time he laid his grubby little hands on a volleyball, and he brushed Aiko’s hair, letting her prattle on about princesses and princes and happily ever afters. They live like that for 14 years, until Keiji’s enrolment at Fukurodani.

He looks just like Bokuto did, white spiky hair and a cheeky grin that matched Bokuto’s own boyish one. His uniform was pressed and ironed and Keiji wore the grey blazer with pride.

 _“I’m going to be the Ace, just like dad was!”_ he announced the day before he was due to start high school. Emi had been exasperating, instructing her son to _sit down_ and finish his dinner but Bokuto had just laughed, clapping his boy on his back and telling him that it was the Ace’s job to instil confidence in the team.

And now here they were, in front of those familiar iron gates, and it was Keiji this time, and not Bokuto, who whined about having his dad drop him off on his first day of school. Bokuto had also _insisted_ on coming to his first practice, both because he was proud of his son and wanted to see him in action and also because he wanted to confirm a rumour he had heard from Kuroo the other day about who was coaching the new Fukurodani team. He bid his son farewell, laughing and slapping his son on the back. Keiji grumbled but had a small smile quirked on his lips as he wandered into the new environment.

The day ticked by for Bokuto as he waited for school to end. He attended a meeting with an interested sponsor and visited Kuroo at his job at the Metropolitan Centre. He also went home to help Emi with some house chores before 3 pm finally came. When it did, Bokuto rushed towards Fukurodani with a fervour he never had as a high-schooler. He dashed through the gates, the old security guard recognising him at first glance, and he took the familiar route to Gym 3 where the volleyball team held practice.

The familiar shouts of first years introducing themselves echoed in the empty cavern and Bokuto could hear his own son yelling, declaring that he was going to be the ace. He skidded to a stop right as he reached the gym’s entrance and his eyes fell upon a pair of familiar green ones. So it was true… Akaashi was the new assistant coach for Fukurodani.

Akaashi’s eyes widened, an uncharacteristic look of surprise replacing his usual passive features. He had grown older, more lines and more exhaustion, but he looked as pretty as he did that night he had confessed to Bokuto. His cheeks were flushed, from surprise or exasperation at the first years, Bokuto didn’t know but what Bokuto couldn’t look away from was the look of absolute bewilderment in Akaashi’s eyes. They were lit up with _something_ that Bokuto hadn’t seen in a while and he felt himself shiver.

“Bokuto-san..?” Akaashi’s voice travelled across the hall and the entire Fukurodani team glanced between the two men. Keiji looked slightly annoyed and embarrassed and whined that Bokuto should _leave_. But with a raised hand, Akaashi silenced him and, half-heartedly ordered the team to go run some laps. Bokuto was still rooted in place, tendrils of fear and apprehension forming around his ankles, securing him in place. He had been so excited to see Akaashi that he hadn’t thought of what he would do or say once he did. His heart was hammering and he felt like he was transported back to that night where he had felt sweaty and confused and _panicked_ but also excited and happy and overwhelmed that the love of his life felt the same way about him.

For a minute Bokuto forgot that they were in their 30s and grown and _married_ in Bokuto’s case. He forgot that they were no longer young high-schoolers with nothing to fear except the temporary pain of being rejected. The smell of Salonpas and the sticky linoleum jerked Bokuto back all those years to a time when he felt invincible standing next to Akaashi. By then, Akaashi was mere centimetres away from him.

“You couldn’t stay away from volleyball huh?” Bokuto managed after a few minutes of the intense silence. His voice came out a lot steadier than he felt and he was glad.

“No, I couldn’t. Not when it was the thing that connected me to you.”

And Bokuto felt himself curl over, heart aching and spasming and the panic yells of children swarmed around him. He was escorted to the field outside and Akaashi stood by him as he let himself feel what he had been suppressing for the past ten years.

After what felt like forever, Bokuto steadied himself and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m not gay Akaashi…”

A soft strangled cry came from beside him and Bokuto dared a glance at the other male. His face remained neutral but Bokuto noticed the slight clench in his jaw.

“No. I mean, I’m not _gay,_ not in my eyes at least because I’m not attracted to men. I’m just… I’m only attracted to you. You’re the only one I want and I know it’s too late but I just needed to let you know that… that…” He trailed off, frustrated at being unable to express how he felt.

“I know.” It was so soft that Bokuto almost missed him but how could he ever when he had been waiting a whole ten years to hear Akaashi’s voice again.

“You know?”

“Of course Bokuto-san. I always knew.”

* * *

Time passed and Bokuto saw Akaashi at games that Keiji played, at practices that he picked Keiji up from and at any volunteer event that required the help of the teams’ parents. Keiji did turn out to be the Ace, a second-year Ace that led his team to a national title. Akaashi was on the bench, watching with a proud smile and the occasional grimace whenever the team missed a move.

They acted like old friends, friendly but with a slight distance, and Bokuto never tried to push past that. Because he knew that it was too late, Akaashi had given him chance after chance and he had been too scared to take them. Maybe it was destiny or fate or some otherworldly power but Bokuto Koutarou died having never told Akaashi how he truly felt for him. Akaashi Keiji followed a few days later.

Maybe timing was the bitch, or maybe it was Bokuto, for not seizing the chance when he had one. But that was how it ended, unspoken words and promises of what could have been. That was how Bokuto Koutarou missed his shot with one Akaashi Keiji.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me on twitter: @/miyukeyy


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